


The Potato Eaters

by Draikinator



Category: Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Eugenesis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draikinator/pseuds/Draikinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I just finished Eugenesis and im in pain i dont know dont read this its the most esoteric shit ever written</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Potato Eaters

Rev-Tone pressed his and Quark’s foreheads together gently, rubbing his thumbs softly over the indents in his cheekplates, the soot-stained crackles in the paint and metal, hairline fractures that spiderwebbed into echoing Van Gogh craters, all cream-cyans and energon-pinks and pig-metal greys. Quark was remarkable in that with, yet somehow not despite, the rupture in his skull cavity, crinkled metal crumpling at the barely cauterized edges and grimey with clotted pink energon and burn marks, he was beautiful. A post-modern painting Rev-Tone humoured no delusions he would ever understand, only appreciate with the wonder of a wide eyed sparkling, marvelling at fractalline fractures and stunning scars.

Quark kissed him and he kissed back, biting back the urge to purge when he tasted warm, half processed and bled-out energon mixed with ash and mechanical fluids. Beneath it all was the taste of Quark himself, sharp, and ever changing, ever constant.

Rev-Tone pulled back and rubbed their faces together again, a motion Quark mimicked, both desperate for contact, “I love you,” Rev-Tone whispered, reverent, fingers still trembling, “I love you.”

His words, however quiet, however whispered, hissed echoes of this thin metal walls, repeating the confession into the darkness, down unlit halls and into fissured cracks in the walls. His feet shifted in the grit of pummeled debris like sand on the floor, leaning them together against the wall, arms clinging to one another in a death grip like they might never touch again, fingers searching insistently for nothing but desperate to find.

“Rev- we’re going to die here, aren’t we?” Quark breathed, pressing feather light kisses along Rev-Tone’s jawline, never pausing for more than a moment.

Rev-Tone grabbed his face and pulled them back to another kiss, deeper, needier, and pulled him even closed than before, if it were possible, tugging their chests flush against one another, metal whining with the effort, “Shut up, shut up, don’t talk like that. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”

They sunk down slowly, still pawing at one another like children in the dark, legs crumpled beneath them, hands running over seam lines, desperate to remember features before they were lost, “You shouldn’t have even been on that battlefield, and I shouldn’t have made it off. We can’t cheat death forever.”

“Yes we can,” Rev-Tone hissed, squeezing his optics shut against the hot threat of tears, “I won’t lose you. And you won’t lose me.”

They were silent then, memorizing the feel of dented, broken platelets and peeling paint, soundless but for the occasional hiss or spark from Rev-Tone’s broken leg and the steady grinding thunder from the distant AMC1 down the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> It honestly didn't really occur to me how uneccesarily esoteric the title of rhe was but "the potato eaters" is the title of van gogh's earlist great work; the first that is considered to be a masterpiece.


End file.
